


A lumberjack with a chainsaw fighting a drunk bear

by bloodandcream



Series: Ship all the Ships [111]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Mild Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 07:50:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6321124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sky is turning that inky indigo shade that precedes the sunrise, the bedroom lightening in incremental shifts, brightness around the edges of the curtains. Birds are chirping outside. The house is warm and the mattress is molded perfectly to Dean’s body in a tender embrace.<br/>Half past five.<br/>This is what Hell is like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A lumberjack with a chainsaw fighting a drunk bear

Dean knew that there would be an adjustment period. He has spent most of his young adult life as a single bachelor, but there was a time of about a year that he lived in happy cohabitation with Lisa. He knew it took work. Figuring out who’s things should stay and who’s should go. (You only need so may spatulas). Who gets the shower first thing in the morning. (Dean’s a hot water hog). Who takes the trash to the curb. (Taking turns is always appreciated). Who kills the spiders. (Cain prefers to take them outside).

It doesn’t matter how long you date a person, moving in together is still a big step.

Dean is perfectly aware of this, willing to make concessions, and he can be patient up to a point. But fucking with a man’s sleep is not cool.

Now, he had spent plenty of times sleeping over with Cain in his old house. Dean was always the one to stay over at Cain’s though, because Dean’s apartment was tiny and sad. And he has a theory. Cain had a plain old box spring set mattress. Dean’s bed, the king sized glory of memory foam comfort, is the one which they decided to use as their bed upon moving in together. And Cain, for some reason, seems to sleep on his back more on the foam mattress than on his old mattress.

Dean knows this, because he’s been glaring at Cain in the dark for weeks now whenever he gets woken up in the middle of the night by that godawful snoring.

When Dean would sleep over at Cain’s before, on the old mattress, he could give the older man a nudge and Cain would roll on his side and it would soon be blissfully quiet. Cain only snores when he sleeps on his back.

Right now, at one fucking a.m. in the morning, Dean’s woken up again by the snoring. He’s not that gentle when he tries to shove Cain onto his side. There’s some grunting and snuffling but eventually Cain rolls, turning his bare back to Dean. When the quiet descends in their modest bungalow on the sleepy suburban lane, Dean sinks blissfully back to sleep.

-

Squinting at the clock on the bedside table, Dean whimpers. Two a.m. He’s only gotten an hour of peace. And Cain is on his back again snoring like a fucking cranked engine. Dean does his usual nudge. Doesn’t budge Cain an inch. He shoves a little. And a little harder.

Cain grunts. “Goddamit, what time is it?”

“Two.”

“Why the fuck are you waking me up?”

“Because I can’t sleep through your snoring.”

Cain rolls onto his side, pulling the blankets up, back to Dean. “There is a couch down stairs, you know.”

-

Four a.m. Dean is so tired he can feel his eyeballs move. His jaw hurts from clenching. Cain is sprawled like a starfish and now Dean is not only awake from the snoring but he’s being crowded out of bed.

Dean will not stand for this.

There’s nothing gentle when he wakes Cain up this time, smacking him on the chest.

“I swear to god Dean, if you wake me up again I am going to drag you downstairs myself and tie you to the couch.”

Any other time that might be a fun threat. But Dean has had a long grueling week of working at a new construction site and he’s got blisters on his blisters, a sun burn across his shoulders, and he just wants. Some. Fucking. Sleep.

-

The sky is turning that inky indigo shade that precedes the sunrise, the bedroom lightening in incremental shifts, brightness around the edges of the curtains. Birds are chirping outside. The house is warm and the mattress is molded perfectly to Dean’s body in a tender embrace.

Half past five.

This is what Hell is like.

Dean swears he can hear the windows rattling from Cain’s snores. His teeth hurt from clenching. He’s so tired he feels drunk. True, he could sleep on the couch. But that would mean conceding defeat. His cock doesn’t seem to get the memo that he’s not a happy camper right now, standing up tall and proud under the blankets like it’s waving a flag.

Yeah, good morning to you too buddy.

There’s no way that Dean is getting back to sleep. He should probably shuffle to the bathroom and relieve his bladder. He’s just so tired. Cain drones on. Slipping his hand under the cover Dean strokes his cock lazily. Ponders his conundrum. He really likes Cain - probably big ‘L’ - but that’s kind of scary to admit. However, he has to ask if he can really live the rest of his life on a few interrupted hours of sleep a night. Or will he snap after years of this and commit bloody murder for some goddam peace and quiet.

Maybe a jerk off session would help. It usually helps everything. Except that Cain’s snoring is pretty fucking distracting. Twisting over to grope around in the night stand, Dean finds the lube. Yeah, he’s got plans. Shifting - and fuck but Cain sleeps like a brick - Dean props one leg up and spreads his thighs wide, draping one leg over Cain’s lap and the man still snores on.

One hand on his cock squeezing gently, Dean slides his lubed fingers down to sink into his ass. He just needs a little stretch, spread that slickness around, insides silky hot around his fingers and Dean sighs as he feels some frustration unwind from his muscles.

Cain’s still snoring. They have a huge yard and the neighbors are pretty far away. Dean is nonetheless concerned that they’re going to get a noise ordinance.

Curling onto his side, pulling the blankets down off Cain, Dean circles a wet fist around his semi hard cock. It’s erect and ready in no time.

Swinging a leg over Cain’s lap, the man snuffles a loud snort and jolts but Dean’s sinking down on his cock before Cain’s even fully awake. Ass flush to thighs, Dean gives a few bounces. Cain flails and brings his hands up to Dean’s waist, blue eyes blinking, grunting, hair fanned across the pillow under him.

“What the hell?”

“You were still snoring.”

Yawning, Cain stretches, hips pushing up into Dean. “What time is it?”

“Almost six.”

Rolling his hips down, Dean lays along Cain’s warm chest, soft with thick hair, and kisses up the swoop of his shoulder to rub against his beard. Calloused hands stroke up Dean’s back, down and up again, fingers scratching lightly at his neck.

Slow and languid, Dean rocks against Cain, rubbing his erection between their bodies and circling his hips instead of putting too much effort into riding it. Cain kisses his temple, hand cupping his face and bringing him up, kisses his lips close-mouthed, noses bumping. Elbows braced on the bed bracketing Cain’s chest, Dean leans most of his weight down and Cain breathes steady under him. Tired hips stutter, muscles tense and relax, easy warmth pools in his gut and pulses under his skin. Dean feels much better after the long night.

Yawning and rolling off Cain, sticky and spent, Dean burrows under the sheets. “You should bring me breakfast to apologize for your snoring.”

Cain snorts. “It can’t be that bad.”

“You sound like a lumberjack with a chainsaw fighting a drunk bear.”

-

Dean hadn’t realized he’d fallen back asleep until Cain’s gently shaking him awake. Rubbing his eyes blearily, he blinks at the clock. Almost nine a.m. Huh. Shuffling to sit up against the headboard, Dean smiles when he sees a tray decked out with coffee, scrambled eggs, buttered toast. Cain, wearing only loose flannel sleep pants, hair tangled, sits cross legged next to him.

Dean leans over to peck him on the cheek. “You made breakfast.”

“Well I do feel bad that you’ve been getting poor sleep,” Cain shrugs one shoulder.

Dean stuffs a piece of toast in his mouth, “We can get some of those nose strips, see if that helps.”

It’s a good apology when Cain mumbles into his coffee, “It’s worth a try.”


End file.
